A/N: Finnick and Annie have always been my favorite ship in The Hunger Games, and so naturally I eventually felt the urge to write something about them. I wanted to give Annie more of an edge though, getting away from the "poor, mad girl back home" portrayal, all the while staying true to her character by exploring her games. There is a very good chance Annie was a Career, and so this story goes by that theory. However, I doubt that Annie was ever the kind to mercilessly kill, and so I try to show that complexity here. In short, this is my take on how Finnick and Annie meet and fall in love, and how their bond is strengthened later with Annie's mental illness. This is not an epic story that tells Catching Fire and Mockingjay from their point of view (this was originally a one-shot that grew into what will be 3 chapters), but rather covers the time period solely around Annie's games. At the end though, there will be a connection to Mockingjay. Enjoy! :)
I own nothing shown here! All characters, settings, etc. belong to Suzanne Collins.
This is my first FanFiction ever actually published, so reviews and the like would be greatly appreciated! But please be nice, because I'm a newbie ;)
And this all from Finnick's POV:
For a woman who worked indoors, my mother spent a lot of time outside, down by the ocean. My father had to. Fisherman. Whenever people asked me to talk about him that's the description I would give. It was true, but hid a lot of animosity that any further description would've given. Explosive. Degrading. Proud. Too Proud. Cared what other people thought too much-that kind of proud. He couldn't be bothered with aimlessly spending time at the sea, unless money was involved. But my mother used to take me as a kid, and once I knew how to swim she spent most of her time on the sand or perched on a rock, just watching. I asked her about that once, how she could spend so much time just watching me mess around in the water with friends. She told me, "The ocean never fails to fascinate me. It's seen so many people and survived so many storms, and yet it doesn't change. The tide still comes in and goes back out without fail, seashells still wash up on the shore, and people still flock to it like they never left. Anything so beautiful, so mysterious, so immortal and unchanging, deserves to be looked at."
As a ten year old kid, I didn't understand what that meant. If anything, the fact that the ocean was still there like it had been when she was my age made me question why she found something that stationary to be so marvelous.
I get it now. Today marks five years since I was reaped, and as I look out at the shoreline that morning watching the sailboats go out and fishing boats already coming back in, I treasure having something to go back to-something that hasn't changed whereas everything else in the past five years has.
And so as I stand in position at the reaping of the 70th Hunger Games, I barely pay attention to the opening video from the Capitol telling how the games originated. Instead I look past the open space where the entire district stands, and then past a cluster of trees to the bit of shoreline I can see from my elevated spot on the platform. I snap to attention though when District 4's escort from the Capitol, Karia, slides her hand into the glass bowl to pick the female tribute's name because I really should be listening. Ever since Scallion died, Mags and I switch off mentoring the male and female tribute every year, and this is my year for the female tribute. Karia reads the name. It's one I don't recognize but it seems that as more people around Panem know me, I know less people of District 4. A young girl steps forward looking terrified. She has red hair, the color people in the Capitol crave, and a gangly build. Despite her height, she can't be more than fifteen. I see silent tears start to fall down her cheeks and I sign her off as dead right there, not to be cruel but to be realistic. I feel somewhat guilty as I do so, but crying on camera is not perceived well. No, in the Capitol it's seen as a sign of weakness, and even showing ingratitude and unwillingness for the sacrifice to keep Panem stable. It's an opinion. I've heard it. I've heard them all.
Karia pats her electric blue hair that is twisted all up on one side and soon excitedly asks if they're any volunteers. With District 4, there's a 50/50 shot for a Career taking a scared kid's place. The careers do exist (I was one once) but they're not as common or revered as in the higher districts. They don't train as much, and volunteer for a variety of reasons, not just the stereotypical pride and fame. In my mind, I hope for a volunteer. I can see the desperation on this kid's face and though truth be told I'm a bit numb to the process by now, I don't want to have to mentor another kid to fail. So when I hear a determined voice say "I volunteer," I feel relieved. The color starts to return into the kid's face and an older girl steps forward. She's not much taller than the original tribute, but a bit more filled out, being less skinny than fit and athletic. That's good. She's definitely a career and not a sister or cousin (though that kind of volunteer is extremely rare), as evidenced by her different looks than the redheaded girl now trying to get lost again in the crowd. This new girl who identifies herself as Annie Cresta has dark, wavy hair and eyes that match the color of the ocean I had been watching. Her expression lacks any strong emotion, but her voice sounded confident when she volunteered. My guess is she's about seventeen, but her face looks young. I try to connect it to some of the careers I knew growing up but I don't recognize her. I might've heard the name before, but she didn't grow up in the part of District 4 I did. She steals a side-glance at me and I make my signature Finnick Odair smirk. She purses her lips and looks away. Hard to impress.
The male tribute soon reaped by Karia must've just missed the cut-off, as if one were to judge just by his looks and stature they'd say he's twenty years old. Tall and sturdy, I recognize his dark, curly hair and tan from my father's fishing dock. He used to help out with his own father. Karia had said Tucker Saltmend. Yeah, that sounds right. No volunteers this time.
He's not a career but he seems to take his fate as well as Annie did: void of much emotion. Determined. Karia has the new tributes shake hands and I notice how Tucker towers over Annie. But she looks him right in the eye.
And then as Annie turns back around she flashes a big, confident smile for the cameras that she knows are surely on her by now. Fake. I can tell. A little too wide. Held a bit too long. As Karia whisks the tributes off the stage, Tucker doesn't look back, but Annie does. I see her eyes quickly scan across the people in front of her one last time. I recognize that subtle motion and I know exactly what she's thinking.
What the hell did I just do?
I'm refusing to get my hopes up. The first year I mentored, I had a male career. In many ways, he reminded me of myself when I was in that position. He was a favorite to win, and had a great chance too. Maybe there was more I could've done and maybe he could've pushed harder, but about two days before the victor was named he died in a tornado the Gamemakers conjured up. He trained his whole life just to die from what the commentators called "environmental causes". There was no heroic ending or elaborate battle to the death. That was it, and all of Panem forgot about him and moved on to celebrate the victor. I never forgot him so the last thing I want is to become too attached.
Luckily for me, I don't get attached to people too easily. I tell Annie that when I first talk to her on the train into the Capitol. I don't even remember how it came up. I just remember her saying, "Me neither". The only other thing I take from that conversation besides that she isn't going to be easily swayed by my usual flirty lines and will only pay attention to actual tactics (I can't say I blame her), is that she had prepared from multiple Trainers. That's odd. Most careers have one person that trains them to be ready for volunteering and The Hunger Games, or at least to become a Trainer themselves in the hopes of raising some other kid up for slaughter someday. The fact that she had jumped around between people meant something had gone wrong.
I hate having to keep in character for her. I'd much rather just talk strategy and get to know what makes her tick, but part of my Capitol façade calls for flirting with every female in the vicinity, and with Karia and cameras constantly around, I can't afford to let that act slip-not after what happened last time. I do want to get some time to talk to her alone because I feel like there's more than the understated and athletic mask she's probably hiding behind. And if I know what she's like, I can figure out what she needs to win.
I first get that opportunity once we're in the Capitol, the night of the opening ceremonies, when I find her and her stylist putting the finishing touches on her hair in a room of the District 4 level. Her costume shows off just enough without being overly revealing (by Capitol standards), right in line with the easy-going nature Annie has seemed to emanate while here. Only just barely though, because she's wearing a corset-style top that's shockingly low-cut (compared to what she's worn since I've seen her) and covered in aqua-colored sparkles. This shifts into a loose short skirt which was probably meant to resemble netting guessing by the fringy fabric, but really just looks like another layer of blue and green sequined swirls that barely cover what they need to. It worked for me, so I guess since Annie's seventeen it's not surprising her stylist wants to get people's attention in that way. And I'll admit, by the way the short skirt makes her legs look miles long and extremely toned, it'll work.
My eyes freeze not there, but on her face. Her makeup artist used purples and grays to bring out her eyes, and a soft colored lipstick. Ocean colored rhinestones surround the corners of her eyes in wavelike patterns, which are framed by her perfectly styled, and yet very natural looking, thick, wavy hair. Flickerman will probably comment on how she looks just like a mermaid, but I'm caught on how under all that makeup, a natural sort of beauty seems to shine through. And I don't know why I didn't see it yesterday, but I think it's there. I'm not used to seeing such an organic kind of beauty, one that can't be bought or scientifically altered, and so I find it refreshing. She isn't just wearing the charm, but she internalizes it, like when I came in the room to the sound of her laughing to something her stylist had said. No, that grace came from under the surface. She didn't just reflect beauty, she embodied it from somewhere deeper.
As her stylist hurries out of the room to go get more lipstick or something else equally unnecessary, she doesn't notice me staring a bit longer than normal, but Annie does. She blushes so that her pale face has a new pink contrast in her cheeks. "Sorry", I tell her trying to cover up anything that would make her uncomfortable and continue saying, "You look beautiful". Because no one's around and I highly hope that the Capitol doesn't have heavy surveillance in a dressing room, I drop the "Golden Boy" purr for my real voice.
She notices the change and says with a slight eyebrow raise, "Do you do this for all your tributes?"
"Well considering last year was a thirteen year old boy…"
She half smiles and mutters a thank you. She looks into the full-length mirror and her smile completely fades. She's quiet for a while as she tries to see her every angle in the mirror. "You probably won't understand this problem, but I think it's a bit much. This is not me at all." She points to her chest which is pushed up by the top of her costume, forcing me to remove my eyes from her face. "Not everyone's okay with people looking at them like they're nothing more than their body. It's kind of sick how I can spend my whole life training for something, and yet all anyone cares about is how sexy I look."
She looks uncomfortable saying the last line, like she doesn't want to admit it to herself. And seeing my expression, she must mistake the pitiful understanding for a slight offense, because she quickly says, "Sorry, I just feel kind of miserable".
Oh Annie, if you only knew.
I close some of the space between us and say as empty of emotion as I can muster, "Don't worry. We're all miserable".
She looks at me curiously and opens her mouth to tell me something, but I turn away and leave the room before she does. I swear I can hear her stylist coming back, and if he could see how red my cheeks are or how clumsy my smile feels, we'd have a problem.
One hour into the first day of training and I know Annie is much more than the pretty face she flashed for the cameras last night. She flies through the simple survival stuff, not only knot-tying, but making shelter and identifying plants. I breathe a sigh of relief the moment I see that deft intelligence translate into physical combat. She's certainly not the strongest or the biggest, but she could very well be the fastest. She's also very agile and flexible, and dives around opponents and obstacles alike as if they're not there. She's comfortable with multiple weapons and her aim is pretty good. I don't know who her Trainers were, but I feel the need to thank them now.
Today's mostly about testing ground, and anyone with a chance knows to leave their best for later. But it's also a great day to begin psyching out the competition. Maybe it's because I'm paranoid in putting my trust into a tribute after what happened a couple years ago, but I swear the Careers are worse this year since I've seen them. They are more physically capable than in past years, but what becomes apparent to me is their approach. Careers are known for being heartless and killing-machines, but there seems to be an added passion this year. They want it more because their districts want the honor again, especially after last year's District 1 guy having come so close to lose to Johanna Mason from District 7. Whatever the reason, something's different this year, and the stakes seem so much higher. I quickly conclude that Annie volunteered for the wrong Hunger Games, because nothing is going to be easy this year.
The Careers from Districts 1 and 2 lead the pack, but Annie and Tucker manage to keep up. It's easy to see the difference between Careers there. While the relationship between the District 1 Careers seems very tense and unstable, Annie and Tucker get along easily, like friends almost. Good, I don't have to worry about them trying to kill each other.
By the end of the session, most of the tributes are using or watching people on the sets of horizontal, raised bars used to prepare tributes for tree-climbing with branches or vines. Really though, they're used more now just for strengthening upper body strength, balance, and control, which is why I'm surprised how full-out the other Careers are going on them. It seems as one makes a release up and over the bar (I cringe internally as to how his hands barely grab back on to the bar), the person on the bars next to him will put herself through a completely unnecessary pencil-straight handstand pushing up from the top of the bar. And then as Careers usually do, they get cocky. The girl from District 1 who seems to be about Annie's age and size but has straight blonde hair and gray eyes that always make her look like she's scheming, wobbles in a short handstand at the top and her body weight teeters, making all of the bystanders worry she's going to fall to the ground. When she releases off of her bar a minute later, her body contorts into a twisting ball. Instead of landing on her feet though, the incredibly difficult and self-indulgent dismount brings her down hard on her back. She gets up quickly, if she hurt herself she's not showing signs, and walks away huffy.
While I was watching her, I barely noticed Annie had just mounted unto to the other bar next to the one the District 1 scowling girl had just fallen off of. The skills Annie throws in the air are just as difficult, but they're noticeably cleaner. The easy grace of flying through the air fits her, and so she makes it look effortless even with her dismount. It's the exact same one the District 1 girl had attempted, except Annie lands on her feet without even the slightest step forward. All eyes, most of them now in awe, are on her. She politely and humbly avoids their gaze, but I can tell that's she smiling.
I can also see the glare the District 1 girl isn't bothering to hide. Even though I have a small smile on my face I know we're thinking the same thing. What Annie just did won't save her from a tornado or the brute strength of a guy like Tucker, but first impressions and sponsors are just as important. And the attentive eyes aren't just coming from the Training Room floor, but from the room overlooking the gym floor, filled with Gamemakers and other representatives.
She could win this.
And so the next few training days continue in the same fashion. The real training, competition, and attention goes to the five Careers and Tucker, who despite not having a Career nameplate may as well be one. I learn that the vicious looking blonde that fell the other day is named Kat. She already seems to have a strong alliance with the two male tributes from District 1 and 2, both of whom look incredibly strong. The other female Career, the dark-skinned, tall girl from District 2, takes a lower profile like Annie, but anyone looking closely can see she is exceptionally brutal and competitive.
I haven't had as much time to give to Annie as I would like, due to the increased amount of assignments from Snow. The Hunger Games and its necessity for me being in the Capitol as a mentor means a lot more sleeping with people I'll likely never see again, and so a lot more feeling numb because it beats overwhelming anger, self-loathing, and hopelessness.
One of the nights I'm not busy, I find Annie out in the sitting area of the District 4 level, by herself. Most everyone's either asleep or begging for sleep to come, so the room is dark except for a couple small, exotic lamps. It's eerily quiet. She's still in her training clothes from earlier, which remind me of what I should be talking to her about, as opposed to looking at her aimlessly flip through some Capitol magazine on the table.
Soon we're talking strategy, and so I ask her suddenly, "What's your strength?" She hesitates. "Oh come on, everyone has one. Throwing spears with incredible aim, making traps, endurance…wielding a trident around like it's your job because District stereotypes are actually oh so true." I'm using my real voice again with her.
She gives a smile-a real one as it touches her eyes, have I seen that from her?-one that starts out small and then eventually widens into a light-hearted grin. "I don't know", she starts, "I was always kind of an all-arounder at where I trained. I liked it that way, being a bit prepared for everything. So yeah, I guess I don't really have one strength that surpasses everything else."
"What about bars? You seem really comfortable in the air…though I don't know what I'd call that, and it's probably not practical unless the arena is a jungle full of trees with large branches."
"True. But you're right. I guess I'm pretty good at that."
"Pretty good?" I almost scoff. Usually you have to rein Careers in because they think they're capable of more than they actually are. Something tells me Annie is her own worst critic.
I tell her that and she responds, "It's not that impressive though. Really, it's just like swimming, except there's no water and you're much higher off the ground."
She sees the confused look on my face and continues, "The motions are the same somewhat. And the idea is the same. You're working with a natural element, making something dangerous and unrestrained into being conquered and fun. Bars are basically swimming in the air."
"I take it you're a good swimmer?"
"Well coming from District 4 my standards are probably pretty high, so no I wouldn't say I'm that powerful or fast or anything." Of course not. "But compared to some of these tributes who have only been in ponds or Training Center pools a few times at most, I'd say I could definitely out swim them."
"So water is your advantage."
"Yeah". She's quiet for a minute and then says with a dry tone to her usually light and airy voice, "Too bad I doubt the arena's going to be a swimming pool." She seems to reflect a bit more and then adds, "I also have a high tolerance for cold water. I grew up in the Northern end of the District, so even though it's not preferable, I can probably handle cold, raw ocean water better than anyone else can…though I don't know where Tucker's from."
"He's actually from near where I grew up." I'm thinking about what Annie said about being from the Northern part of the district. There's less people there, but there's also much more poverty there. It's harder to fish when you have a shorter season because of the lower temperatures. I think of how I grew up, with the much more lavish style of the Southern District 4. Well not lavish, not after seeing all the waste associated with that word in the Capitol, but comfortable at least. Safe. And I realize I know so little about her. Curiosity takes over before I can stop it, "So if you're from the northern part, who were your Trainers?" I still don't know this, and most of the people I'm thinking of have Training Centers pretty far from that area…
"My dad was for a while." The past tense hits hard and I think back to the Reaping Day, where I couldn't remember seeing anyone in the crowd heavily reacting to Annie's volunteering, or even anyone there for her for the visiting period before we left District 4's Justice Building. I hadn't really thought of it at the time, but it made more sense now.
She doesn't speak for a while and I know she's debating on elaborating or not. I've crossed a line, I can see that, and so I say, "You don't have to talk about it if you want. It's none of my concern really."
She completely ignores me and I see her rub the training shirt's fabric in between her thumb and index finger. Nervous habit. She doesn't look up from her hand as she says, "Since my dad was a Trainer, and really the only decent one in that area, he often took the train into the Capitol and to the other side of the district for new techniques and connections. My mother often went with him, because she'd sometimes help out at the Training Center. One weekend they left on one of those trips and the train got into a huge accident on the way back. It derailed, which was unheard of before."
I remember that accident vaguely because it was so rare. Capitol technology, as we are taught, is flawless and so a freak accident like that, especially one that took District 4 lives, was very well known throughout home. I don't remember much about it though. It was around the time of my games, where the games itself are in excruciating detail in my memory, but other things like that are just a smear of sounds and colors in my mind.
"My dad died instantly. My mom was seriously injured and put in a hospital, but it didn't matter. She held on for a while, longer than anyone expected, but it wasn't enough. I don't know what was worse: never getting to say goodbye to my father or watching my mother slowly deteriorate."
She pauses briefly and her eyes glance at my face. I can't even imagine what my expression looks like, but she brings her gaze back down to her hands. "Right after that, I had help from neighbors and such, but that couldn't last forever, so I moved in with my great-uncle. I'll be eternally grateful for everything my neighbors and friends from the Training Center did for me, but I was now orphaned, and once Peacekeepers and legalities get involved everyone kind of looks the other way. I was able to keep training because my great-uncle knew that I was virtually useless where he worked-I don't really have the attention span for fishing all day. But I came in right after his wife died, and so not only was I there to help take care of the house but I kept it from being just him, and vice versa. He died unexpectedly a few months ago, and I guess I never really understood how crucial his salary was for my own survival. Swimming may be a fun training skill but it's not very practical and I knew I was running out of options. I had been preparing to volunteer my whole life basically and so all that was left was to just do it. I thought this could be my second chance. I could make a name for myself, and use whatever opportunities came my way after. And if I die in the process, it's a quicker way to go than starving to death in your own district."
Another pause. I knew there weren't really any services to help those in need in the districts beside tesserae, but that was never my problem. I had never really thought about it until now.
"There was a split second before I volunteered where I thought maybe I'll be just fine on my own. But what was left? I didn't have a practical skill or trade, I didn't have anyone left really, and I honestly just couldn't subject myself to being a prostitute." I flinch at her casual use of the word, but she doesn't notice. "And so here I am. What kind of a sick place do we live in where this is the better option?"
I became curious why she was telling me all of this. And then I realize she probably doesn't have anyone that would listen. And that there's no one left who really knows her. By telling me this, she is making me a biographer. She's making sure someone knows her story, just in case the odds don't work in her favor.
The next day's a big one, but I have to miss most of it. Soon after Annie and I stop talking, Snow calls me in last minute to "pay off a debt" for him. Part of me thinks of just saying no, but I know it would be useless. Being out so late and probably missing most of the next day would be detrimental, but skipping out on the latest Capitol girl would just create greater consequences, and not just for myself. Snow made that painstakingly clear last time.
So I don't give it a second thought. By the time I make it back to District 4's floor, I've missed all hours with any sunshine involved, including today's private sessions with the Gamemakers. Annie and I had discussed how she could get a good rank through this process last night, deciding she should show her strength as being experienced in virtually everything by briefly using all of the equipment in the training room. I had taken it for granted that she wouldn't need any help today, but walking into dinner and finding Annie to be the only one missing doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.
Mags tells me that Annie had gone back down to see if the training room was still open because she wasn't hungry, and that apparently her session had not gone as planned because she had been in a bad mood all afternoon and seemed to be limping. She didn't expect to see Annie again until she had to be back up for the release of the rankings later tonight.
I go downstairs expecting to find her furiously putting her negative energy into one hundred push-ups or something, but I find her calmly making a net out of rope. I think maybe her frustration has dissipated, but when she sees me enter the room she asks in a sharper tone than I've ever heard her use, "Where were you today?"
She continues before I can speak, but I don't know what I would say if she let me. "I woke up this morning, after telling you my life-story, to find that you were gone." Her voice has an uncharacteristic edge to it. "I get that everyone's busy, but the only thing I could find out was that you were with some fake Capitol girl with a reputation and lime green hair. Maybe you've forgotten what it's like to be a tribute, but this isn't just a game to me. My life's on the line in case you haven't noticed, and I was starting to actually think you cared."
Her words stung because contrary to what she said at the end, I do care. I wish I could've been there today, but there's nothing I can do to fix it and no way I can convey to her just how helpless I really feel. So I skip the excuses that I normally use, and just sympathetically ask, "What happened?"
She scoffs and sits on the gym floor, and I now see that her right ankle is wrapped in gauze. I sit down next to her, but not too close. She's not scowling, but her voice is still lacking its usual friendly tone.
"About an hour before the ranking sessions started, I was training hand-to-hand combat against Kat. We were evenly matched but she caught me off guard at one point, and I fell awkwardly doing something to my ankle. I wasn't sure what it was at the time, but I knew I would need medical attention. After the private session, I went to the medical unit and they told me there that I had sprained it. They gave me some sort of shot though that's supposed to speed the healing process so that it should be fine for the arena. Anyway, it held me back when the Gamemakers were determining my rank and-"
"Wait, you performed in your private training session with a sprained ankle? Are you crazy?"
She gives me the same determined look she had shown when she volunteered and says, "I didn't want to give Kat the satisfaction of knowing she hurt me. I also didn't want to look weak going into my session. It hurt pretty badly but I could walk on it, and I knew I'd be able to see a doctor within about two hours, so I didn't say anything."
Annie seems less angry now than exasperated. "I got through the little remaining part of training, and the beginning of my private session went fine too. I showed the Gamemakers that I'm capable of doing a little bit of everything, like we had agreed on. But toward the end I was throwing a dagger and in my stance to release it my ankle finally gave out, and so my foot slid out from under me. I fell throwing something as light as a butter-knife, and it didn't even hit the target board."
"So then what'd you do?" I had given up the pretense of using my fake voice when I'm around her, and so I sound as concerned as I feel.
"I got back up and picked the heaviest weapon close to me. I threw a giant spear at the target, though this time very careful to get my balance just right."
"And how did that go?"
"Bulls-eye," she says the side of her mouth slightly lifting like it has the potential for a smile.
"That's good then! It shows that you can get right back up after a setback. Besides, you being ranked first is highly overrated. You want to be ranked high, but not enough to make you a threat." I honestly believe everything I'm saying, but I force an extra hint of optimism into my voice because she looks like she needs it.
"Yeah that's true". I'm relieved to see she has relaxed considerably since I came in, but something in the way she holds her mouth makes me think she's still angry-though whether at me, herself, or the world itself I don't know. She's quiet for a while, and then says after a short sigh, "They won't know though that I sprained my ankle. To the Gamemakers, it just looks like I got complacent, fell, and got back up without getting too embarrassed. I guess that can be seen as an impressive turnaround, but they won't know the real endeavor behind it."
I look at her earnestly and say, "People never remember the struggle, whether they knew how hard the process was or not. In the end, it only matters how you finish. That's what stays in everyone's mind."
"Well if there's any truth to that theory, then I guess I did okay."
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and says quickly, "I'm still mad at you though." I notice however that her voice doesn't sound very angry anymore.
"Fair enough." I'm just as angry with myself as she is.
Annie seems to sense something in my expression because she feels the need to state, "And just so you know, you don't have to go sleep with every girl that fawns over you to find your self-worth." She looks up at me seriously and her eyes lock on mine. My eyes might be sea-green, but Annie's are deeper than that. They're more complex. There's blue and a bit of gray in her eyes, making them a more authentic ocean color. If I were to ever get close enough to see, I bet the blended color swirls in her eyes would look like waves. "You're better than that."
The earnestness and heart behind that statement takes me aback, and I slip my hand into hers before I can think about it.
I want to tell her the real reason why I couldn't be there today. There's nobody around. All of the camera crews are gone from this room for the day. I know I can trust her. But how can I tell someone that I've only known a few days something so personal? She did the same for me.
Annie looks down at our entwined fingers and must see the conflicting thoughts in my expression because she asks hesitantly yet compassionately, "Is there something you want to tell me?"
"It's not really something you can openly discuss."
She looks at me with slightly raised eyebrows and says in an almost grim tone, "Who am I going to tell?" Mistaking my discomfort at her casual talk of her own death for being uncomfortable speaking, she quickly adds, "I don't mean to be nosy. I just know what it feels like to not really have anyone to confide in."
I have no real reason, no obligation, to discuss myself with Annie. That's not part of being a mentor. But maybe that's all part of the allure. I can't remember the last thing I did something because I truly wanted to. I didn't want to bring her into my problems. But if I was being honest, Annie has a shot at winning-even after her private session-and so wouldn't she find out the truth for herself soon enough? And if that doesn't happen, well, the truth dies with her. When I told Annie last night that she didn't have to tell me anything too personal was when the personal anecdote kept flowing from her. And in this brief second between her speech and mine, I understand part of what provoked her. Timing is everything, and when you see an opportunity and then it's threatened to be taken away, the chance doesn't seem so controversial anymore. When it starts to get warm back home, you take time to adjust to the water that you know will warm up all season. You don't dive under as much. You don't swim as long or far. But in that last stretch of time before winter, even though the water is beginning to cool down again, you dive in as many times as you can-until your legs are numb and your ears ache, because you don't know when you'll be back in the water again. So you learn to appreciate the opportunity when it's there, and deal with the consequences later.
And so I tell her everything. I tell her about how President Snow had a meeting with me at fifteen, telling me that even though I won his game I was still Capitol "property", and so would be bought and sold as such in forced prostitution. I tell her about being paid in secrets, though I skip over the details. I tell her that a couple years ago when the assignments became more common and more demanding, I tried to get out in any way I could. I didn't really believe any of Snow's previous threats, and it couldn't get any worse right?
Wrong. It can always be worse. I tell her how I just didn't show up in the Capitol one day-how I went to my older brother's wedding instead.
And next I'm telling her about my mom and other stuff only Mags knows. I tell her how a few days later my mother became spontaneously ill. How the doctors suspected it was a fluke virus, but a terminal one that couldn't be treated on an adult. How my mother died and my father walked out and my brother never forgave me because he knew I was somehow involved. How I couldn't tell my brother what really happened because I was terrified of what he'd try to do to the local Peacekeepers or even to the Capitol if he found out. How I haven't really spoken to either my father or my brother in years. How I knew then that I was trapped. The stuff I did would not directly hurt me because I could take that. I had stopped caring about myself a while ago. How my consequences would be taken out on other people, thus hurting not only them but any sense of normalcy left in my life.
But I tell her it's not all bad. The ocean's still there. My friends from my old Training Center still talk to me, if in a slightly awed and distant sort of way. Mags makes up for, but does not replace, the family I've lost. She gives the best advice and can read my thoughts under the plastered-on smile.
Annie remains very quiet the whole time, letting me get it out of my system. By the end, tears are streaming down her face silently. She doesn't speak but I don't expect her to.
When I finish, she wraps her arms around my shoulders and lays her head so that she's against my neck. I pull her in closer so that she's basically sitting on my lap, and I put my arms around her back. She mumbles something into my shirt about being so sorry, which is pointless because it's not her fault. But what else is she supposed to say?
We stay embraced like that for a while, until Annie pulls away to look at my face. For the first time since I've known her, I see genuine fear in her eyes. She asks softly, "So they could do that to me too?"
My accompanying silence is the confirmation she's dreading.
"I volunteered for the Hunger Games so that I could have more freedom." As she says this she starts to shake her head, as if she's just understanding how ludicrous that sounds.
"And how free do you feel now?"
"I've never felt more restricted in my life."
And then she stars to cry audibly because victor or not, she could never truly win. I brush the hair out of her face and say, "Hey, it gets better." I'm surprised how sincere I sound, but I think I mean it.
"Really?" she asks skeptically.
"I'm starting to believe so," I say with a faint, but genuine smile. I lean in and close the remaining space between us, kissing her lips. And I soon know that things get better, because she kisses me back.
A/N: This is longer than I thought it was going to be, but I wanted to end this chapter with their first kiss (even if it was understated). So there's the first part! :)
Thanks to any awesome readers out there, and I'll try to update soon with a new chapter!